


Lavender Blue

by buckyready



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brother!Loki, Brother!Thor, Cheating, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Modern AU, legal alcohol consumption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckyready/pseuds/buckyready
Summary: What do you do when you fall in love?Embark on a clandestine affair with your fiancee’s brother, of course.
Relationships: Chris Hemsworth/Thor/Reader, Loki/Thor (Marvel), Loki/Thor/Reader (Marvel), Tom Hiddleston/Loki/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue - A Sunday Kind Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is only ever a morning person for one reason - you.

Very rarely was Loki awake before 10 on a Sunday morning. 

He loved his sleep, and there was only ever one thing, one person, that he would sacrifice his sleeping time for. 

If you were there, he liked to be awake with the rising sun. Liked to watch you as you slept, learn every part of your body like a well read book. He treasured every precious moment he shared with you before you had to go. 

The morning sun poured through the window he'd left open last night, pooling the room in its warm light. It's rays splashed across your skin, gently dappled by the large tree that grew to the left of the window. By noon it would no longer obstruct the light, making his modest balcony the perfect place to enjoy a lazy brunch. 

It was a shame you could never stay long enough to find out. 

You stirred, turning slightly in your sleep before settling, pulling the duvet cover tighter around your chest. He smiled to himself, watching your eyelids gently flutter. The duvet was pulled just high enough to cover your breasts, something he personally considered a royal shame, but just low enough that from where he lay on his side he was still able to admire the curve of your breasts, the light smattering of freckles leading from your septum all the way up to your clavicle, trailing slightly down your left shoulder before coming to an abrupt stop. 

He badly wanted to twirl the strands of soft hair between his fingers that lay just shy of your shoulder blades, badly wanted to press gentle kisses up the side of your neck, all the way to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. He could almost hear the soft, breathy moans that would escape your plump lips if he were to wake you whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 

His hand rested gently on your hip, your bare body a beautiful reminder of the hours he'd spent making love to you the night before. The mere thought of it was beginning to arouse him, so he cast it from his mind in the interest of not rousing you. Perhaps that could wait until you woke up, time permitting. 

Your gentle breathing tickled his bare chest, as did the occasional twitching of your left foot along the inside of his calf. He loved the feeling of his body against yours, loved the intimacy of holding you in his arms, wearing nothing but the rolex watch he'd received for his twenty-first birthday. He loved you so much it hurt. 

He was not certain about many things in his life, but that was one thing he was sure about. He'd loved you yesterday, loved you today, would love you tomorrow, love you forever. When he died, he was fairly certain that the atoms that his body was made up of would go on loving you. 

Suddenly the most beautiful eyes in the entire universe were staring back into his own. You smiled as he caught your gaze, lazily stretching your legs out under the duvet that covered you both. 

"Good morning." He whispered, smiling back at you. You responded by leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

This was pure perfection. Just the two of you and an abundance of sleepy kisses. He could stay here, in bed with you, in your little bubble of love and sex forever. 

"I love you." He breathed, cupping the side of your face as he kissed you. Gone were the gentle, chaste kisses, nothing more than a brush of lips, making way for a hot, passionate embrace. You slotted together perfectly, almost as if you were made to love each other. 

It would make it all the more heartbreaking when in exactly four weeks' time you would be marrying his brother.


	2. Bewildered, Bothered and Bewitched.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our lovers meet.

They say you'll never forget the first time you meet the one. 

For Loki, it was no different. 

Love at first sight? Perhaps. Perhaps not. 

Perhaps a mind muddled with love will never accurately remember its journey to infatuation. 

Maybe he fell in love with her slowly. Maybe it was over squabbles and word games and a shared love of 80s game shows. Maybe it was over midnight drives to the beach, or a stolen tearful embrace.

Maybe it was game over for him the second he looked into her eyes.

A beautiful June day had brought your paths together. 

The sun beat down on his face as he drew his left knee up onto his seat and into his chest. He wasn't peachy keen on the heat, his pale complexion meant he often burnt, his hair frizzed and bugs incessantly bothered him. 

He swatted out at a fly, raising his beer to his lips to take a swig. He had never really been a fan of parties, and his mother's sixtieth birthday garden part had proved no different. He'd made aimless small talk with his grandmother, his cousin, his cousin's husband's daughter and a girl he'd known from primary school, before retreating to a white chair beside the pool, away from meaningless conversation and intrusive questions.

"Are you ok?" A woman's voice asked him. His head snapped round, ready to hurl a pithy comment at his visitor. 

The girl stood in front of him looked soft and sweet and something inside him convinced him to shut his damn mouth, for once in his life. 

"I brought you a beer." She held a small bottle out to him. "You looked like you needed it."

"Thanks." He replied, uncapping the drink and taking a swig, eyeing you suspiciously.

Bewitching. Beguiling. Beautiful.

The sun illuminated your figure, giving you an ethereal glow. Loki squinted up at the woman, gesturing for you to sit beside him. Biting your lip, you accepted his initiation, curling into the seat next to him. You tilted your head to look at him, something inquisitive in your eyes. He admired the way the sun caught one half of your face, the gentle breeze ruffling your hair as you chatted. It looked soft, and he yearned to reach out and touch it. 

You looked curiously at the man sat next to you, your eyes running the length of his frame, from the dark hair gathered into a ponytail to the long white legs dangling by the edge of the pool. He was handsome, you would give him that, with striking, aristocratic features and mesmerisingly green eyes. Something glittered behind them, you noticed. Something that looked a lot like mischief, and something that made you feel as if he was staring straight into your soul.

It was highly unnerving. 

Had Loki known the tumultuous journey he and this unnamed woman would soon embark on, he surely would've walked away and never looked back.

But he didn't, and he got the very strong sense that she was somehow meant to be in life. Even just chatting with you, he felt himself relaxing with you, even beginning to enjoy himself, in a way he hadn't for a long time. Maybe, just maybe, his luck was looking up. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar head of blonde hair approaching. 

Nonono, Loki thought to himself. He couldn't allow his brother to swoop in and take you. His brother had everything, and he wanted to keep you all to himself. 

His older brother was definitely making his way towards the two of you. 

"Hey, um, this is my brother." He managed to get the words out through gritted teeth. "Th-"

"Hey." You grinned up cheekily at the blonde towering over you. 

Not again. 

This could be salvaged, Loki reasoned. You'd seemed genuinely interested in him. You would see past his brother's looks and charm, he would win you over. 

"I see you've already met." The way Thor was looking at you made Loki shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Y/N, this is Loki. Loki, this is Y/N." 

His heart froze in his chest.

"Y/N." He choked out. "Your girlfriend."

The kiss that his brother pressed to your lips told him everything he needed to know. 

Ever since he could remember, Thor had always gotten everything he ever wanted. Thor had always got everything Loki ever wanted, too. 

As boys, he'd gotten the better Christmas presents. As teenagers, he'd gotten all the sports trophies, all the girls. 

At their father's side in his final moments, he'd had their dad's undying pride. 

He leant casually against the brick wall of the house's conjoined garage, watching. He liked to watch, liked to observe, and he found he learned all sorts of things about people by simply keeping quiet and observing them.

But for some reason, he couldn't keep his gaze off you. He watched as you chatted with their mother, your skin kissed gently by the summer sun, a light dusting of freckles across your nose that had not been there earlier that afternoon. An arm was wrapped around your waist, neatly tucked into his brother's side. 

You had left him bewitched, bothered, bewildered. 

"Hey, you." Your soft voice rang in his ears. He looked up, surprised. When had you snuck away from his brother's tight grasp?

"Not many people can sneak up on me like that." He glanced up at you.

"What can I say, it's a gift." You replied. "I saw you over here on your own, so I thought I'd come and bother you." 

He chuckles, a deep sound, resonating in his chest. 

You were looking for him.

"Maybe I preferred it that way." He smiled at you. "So, you're dating my brother?" 

He hoped you didn't notice how his voice cracked.

"Apparently so." You rested your elbow on the wall next to him, staring at him inquisitively. Why did you look at him like that? It felt almost as if you were stripping back the layers of his soul, searching for something, only you weren't quite sure what that thing would turn out to be.


	3. Walkin’ After Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two - In which our unwitting lovers take a holiday abroad.

The first time you ever flew on a plane was just after yourself and Thor had celebrated your one-year anniversary.

It was a family tradition, you'd learnt, to visit their Italian holiday home (Or "summerhouse", as it had initially been described to you) in the summer months, typically in August. You were excited to have been invited, of course. Italy was beautiful, and this was a sign, you later realised, that the family had accepted you as one of their own.

You'd sat on the immense people-carrying jet sandwiched between the two brothers, practically bouncing out of your seat in excitement. Whilst boarding the plane, Loki had dashed ahead, thus securing the window seat, with you in tow, leaving Thor in the aisle seat, despite his heavy protests. You arrived at your destination a few hours later, and following an incident regarding the handle of Frigga's suitcase and Loki's toothbrush, you'd piled your luggage into the Jeep sitting in the car park. 

Loki glanced at you as you fanned yourself with your hand, attempting to create a little breeze. He rolled his eyes, endeared by the silly gesture.

You'd become friends over the last year, the three of you spending a lot of time together. It wasn't uncommon to step into your flat and find the brothers with you, eating pizza or squabbling over the correct way to chop onions. Often, you'd get fed up with their bickering, opting to knock their heads together when they became too much. 

He'd gotten over his little crush on you a few months after you'd met. He wanted you to be happy, wanted his brother to be happy, and he'd come to realise that he could be friends with you. He'd gotten over you, moved on, started putting himself out there a little. He'd been seeing someone, a little over a month since they'd made it "official". She'd met his mum, met his brother, but somehow he couldn't bring her to meet you. But nevertheless, he was happy. 

Most of the time. 

There had been just one moment, where he thought he could feel that same sense of belonging he had felt that very first time he'd met you. 

It was a Saturday night, and he'd come thought he'd pop by your flat on his way home from his date. They'd set a time for a fourth date, and he was looking for some advice on wether it was the right time to suggest they head back to his flat for drinks and, well, fonduing. 

He'd found you curled on the sofa, a tube of pringles on your lap and your eyes glued to the episode of The X-Files playing on the TV. You'd been a little surprised to see him, explaining that Thor was out with his friends, and was everything alright? He'd bashfully said he was looking for some advice from his brother, but that it didn't really matter. 

Somehow you'd ended up engaged in an intense game of scrabble, squabbling over wether tnetennba was actually a word. 

"There's no fucking way tnetennba is a word, Y/N." He'd argued.

"It is, it is!" You'd replied. 

"If it's not in the dictionary, it doesn't count!" He'd waved the small book at you in frustration.

"It's only been recently added, that one is from five years ago!" You'd countered.

And so on and so forth. 

You'd both gotten to your feet as you quarrelled, and at some point you'd started waving your hands wildly in his face, trying to physically as well as verbally express your point. Neither of you had noticed how close you'd gotten until you accidentally bumped shoulders. Silence fell over the room, the tension becoming palpable.

Your chest heaved with your heavy breaths, not quite able to bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You weren't sure why. 

He took your chin gently between his fingers, lifting your head and forcing you to look at him. Your breath stalled in your throat as his other hand gently traced your cheek.

"Eyelash." His voice dropped almost to a whisper, a low rasp in his throat. 

The door opening had sent you both staggering backwards.

The Villa was easily the most beautiful place you'd ever been. The modestly sized rustic farmhouse sat in the southernmost province of Italy, and you thought it was paradise. 

The villa, with its white painted bricks, stone floors and wall climbing plants had most certainly captured your heart (Although the aged housekeeper, Elina, had not), but what had truly enraptured you was the beach. Less than a minutes' jog from the villa, you'd truly fallen in love with the immense dunes and rolling white sands. 

You spent your days lounging by the pool in the blazing sun, drowning in sunscreen and Aperol Spritz, and your evenings swimming in the ocean, if you could drag Thor down to accompany you. 

Loki, too was rather enjoying his time abroad. Holidaying in Italy always meant good food and good drink, and he'd always prided himself on enjoying the finer things life had to offer. He rather enjoyed reading in the shade, enjoying the continental heat without it burning his remarkably pale skin. 

What he was rather not enjoying was the crippling insomnia the ridiculously hot nights brought. By nature, he liked the cold, was just fine in temperatures that had other hiding under eleven thermal layers. So, thirty degree nights left him sleepless and endlessly turning in his tangled sheets. Plus, the mosquitos bothered him no end, and the linen curtains he'd hung from the bedposts didn't seem a particularly efficient deterrent. 

Sighing, he pushed himself up on his forearms and swung his legs out of the bed, stumbling to the window. He dropped his forearm to the ledge, leaning out of the window. The air outside was not much cooler, but the sea breeze offered a little relief.

A twig breaking made his head snap round. Were those footsteps he could hear? 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a dark figure scurrying by the pool. Slight, smaller than him, smaller than his brother. It was you? 

What the hell were you doing? 

Grumbling to himself, he pulled on the tshirt he'd earlier discarded on the floor, heading for the door. He couldn't just let you wander off, could he? God knows where you were going, or who you were going to. 

He remained a few steps behind you as you walked. Eventually, he realised you were heading for the beach. Were you meeting someone? 

You settled between the dunes eventually, stretching your legs out on the sand, staring out at the sea.

"What are you up to, little bird?" He said softly. "Do you have a tendency to go walking after midnight?" 

You gasped, turning to see Loki's tall frame standing behind you, his dark hair almost glowing in the reflection of the moon. 

"Loki." You replied. "You followed me." 

He said nothing, opting instead to sit beside you on the sand. You had one knee hugged into your chest, your skin bronzed from hours in the sun. Your face, he noticed, was free from makeup, your hair pulled away from your face. It suited you, he thought. 

You sat together in silence for a while, staring at the sea. The waves rolling and crashing on the shore was relaxing, and the sea breeze was cool on his bare skin. Your proximity to him set him on edge, unnerved him. He wasn't doing anything wrong, he knew, so why did he feel like he was?

"How's things going with, um, err.." You turned to look at him, your voice trailing off.

"Wanda." He finished. "Good." 

You looked at him, his handsome face illuminated by the moonlight. Why had he followed you?

Neither of you had spoken about the scrabble incident. You'd thought it best not to, to ignore the tension and the angst that had built between you. But here, with him next to you, shoulder to shoulder?

"We should swim." You broke the silence.

"What?" He turned to you, incredulous, but you'd already taken off. Your footsteps were heavy as they landed on the sand, your top and shorts lying discarded on the beach behind you. He watched as you dived into the water, resurfacing not thirty seconds later.

Sighing, he jogged onto the sand after you, wriggling out of his tshirt and placing it on the sand next to your forgotten clothes.

Seeing where you stood in the water, he waded out, stepping carefully so as not to lose his footing, until he eventually reached where you stood just below shoulder deep in the cool water. Wet tendrils of your hair clung to your neck and back, the water gently lapping at the bare skin of your shoulders. He tried very hard not to stare. 

"Beautiful." You murmured, gazing up at the clear sky above you. Where you lived, in the city, there was so much smog that the night sky looked as if it was covered in a thick blanket. Here, you could see so many stars you lost count.

"I know." He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from you. A rock slipped beneath his feet, causing him to stumble, cold water splashing out at your face. You squealed, turning around to spray him with water. 

You played in the water for a few minutes, splashing, squealing and giggling in the cool water, almost as if you were children once more.

You looked incredible, Loki thought. Your bare skin glistened, a single droplet of salty water running down the soft skin of your neck, your upper body covered only by your bra. Your breasts heaved as you tried to catch your breath, and he tried very hard not to stare. 

What was he doing? What were you doing? 

Why were you doing this while your boyfriend, his brother, slept, unaware, in his bed? The bed you should've been in? Why was he doing this while his girlfriend was waiting for him back home? 

"Loki," You turned to look at him, the sudden silence uncomfortable. "Have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't?" 

Yes, he thought to himself. You.


	4. Dream A Little Dream Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the events at the restaurant, and everything that followed on the roof.

The apartment you shared with Thor was small, but you thought it was perfect. Nothing spectacular, a modest two-bed, bath-and-ensuite in Hackney, overlooking Clissord Park. If you leant out of the front window, you could see the vast green expanse, littered with trees, the manor house poking through the trees in the distance. 

Your bedroom was light and airy, thanks to the enormous north-facing window, the space dominated by your bed. A chest of draws sat to its left, decorated with your memories, framed and immortalised. At the bottom of the bed sat a large floor length mirror, and it was this mirror you were currently staring into. 

You fiddled with the slightly too tight straps of your dress, silently willing your boyfriend to hurry up and get out of the shower. Frigga had arranged a family dinner in a restaurant in the city, and by your count, you would already be ten minutes late when you eventually arrived. And Thor wasn't even out of the shower yet. 

Your gaze turned to the photos strung up next to the mirror. Thor and his friends, you and your friends, Thor and you on a trip to Thailand earlier that year. You and your sister, you and Frigga, Thor and Loki with their mother, Thor and Loki as boys. 

Thor, Loki and you in Italy. 

You could barely bring yourself to look at it, shame clouding your vision as the memories of that night flooded your mind. That single moment of vulnerability had haunted you for nearly a year. 

"Why the long face?" Thor's soft voice filled your ears, his hand gently caressing your shoulder. 

You turned to face him, his blue eyes staring straight into yours. He stood before you, half dressed in a dark pair of jeans. The muscles in his back rippled as he rifled through his side of the wardrobe, searching for a shirt to wear. 

"Nothing." You replied, getting to your feet. "It was nothing." 

Thor smiled, turning back to face you as he shrugged on a pale blue dress shirt, running a towel through his wet hair. 

"I'm glad." He kissed your head softly. "I don't like seeing you unhappy." 

"I'm fine, honestly." You looped your arms around his neck. "But we are going to be very, very late."

Loki sighed, draining the dregs from his glass. Family dinners always felt like a farce to him. The extended family gathered in a slightly overpriced restaurant, eating slightly overpriced food and drinking overpriced wine, making small talk they didn't really want to be having.

He looked down at the steak sat half eaten on his plate. Somehow it no longer looked appetising. 

He glanced across at you. You, also, were pushing your risotto around your plate, seemingly struck by a sudden lack of appetite.

He watched you inquisitively, making polite conversation with his aunt, your lips delicately stained by the pinot you were steadily making your way through. You listened as Thor re-enacted a vaguely amusing anecdote regarding you and the blender. Oddly, he'd noticed that in his brother's stories, you were always the butt of the joke, always the supporting cast, and your smile never quite reached your eyes. 

He wondered for a moment, if you'd smile on his arm. 

"Hey, you okay?" He felt a hand on his forearm. The big green eyes of his girlfriend stared back into his own. 

"Yeah." He murmured, smiling softly at her. "I'm just great."

She squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

In the five months Loki had been dating Wanda, you had never met her before. 

As you looked at her, you could not for the life of you understand why. With green eyes set into a creamy complexion, framed by long, dark hair, she didn't exactly conjure up the image of a bunny boiler, and the short conversation you'd had led you to believe she was a pleasant, sweet young woman. 

She'd greeted you with a warm, friendly hug. Loki had not. 

You'd awkwardly hugged, your lips barely brushing skin as you'd kissed each other's cheeks. Things had been fine between the two of you, more distant than before, but fine. The two of you would be fine.

"Can I have everyone's attention please?" Thor clinked his spoon against his wine glass. "Before we finish our meal, I'd like to make a toast to my beautiful girlfriend. To Y/N!"

The vivid flush of your cheeks brought a smile to Loki's face, but the short, sweet kiss you and Thor shared he could not bear to watch. 

"You're sweet, you're clever, you're kind." Thor took your chin between his fingers, lifting your head. "You're funny, you're caring, and I'm so lucky to call you mine." 

The scraping of his chair as he rose to his feet was the only noise to be heard in the now uncomfortably quiet room. 

Panic rose in Loki's chest as his brother fumbled in his pocket, slowly dropping to the floor. He felt as if he might be sick.

Wether your heart or his was beating harder, it would be impossible to call. 

"So, my beautiful girl," Thor smiled up at you. "Will you do me the honour of being mine forever and becoming my wife?" 

The silence that settled over the room was unbearably uncomfortable. All of a sudden, every eye in the room was on you. 

You bit back a gulp, words suddenly escaping you. 

Loki was almost entirely certain he was going to be sick. He could almost feel his heart sitting in the back of his throat, his eyes stinging almost as if he was going to cry.

Oh god, he thought to himself. Please don't cry. 

The bitten stubs of his nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms, anticipation building in his belly. 

With one words, Loki's heart shattered into a thousand teeny, tiny pieces.

"Yes."

Often, when he was upset, Loki liked to watch over the city. It calmed him to watch the world go by beneath him. 

His favourite place to watch the world go by was, of course, his balcony. A stressful day in the office, a day in the courtroom, would often end on his balcony. His tie would remain disregarded on the floor, his suit jacket on the arm of the sofa. Armed with a large Dillon's Rye, he would sit on the sole chair and light a cigarette. He was not a habitual smoker, so much so that he had never purchased an actual ashtray, opting instead to butt his cigarettes on the sole of his shoe and toss them into the plant pot he'd bought but never used for any other purpose, but he always had a box of Marlboro Lites hidden inside a saucepan. He'd quietly observe the world below him until his mood had subsided or he simply became too cold. 

The bar in shoreditch, with its electric heaters and ivy shrouded columns, was not a bad substitute. 

He leant down on his forearms, rubbing his face. 

He shouldn't be bothered by you getting engaged.

He shouldn't be bothered by the idea of you giving love to another man.

He shouldn't be so bothered by the intimate, tender kiss you'd shared with his brother. 

He had Wanda.

Wanda was beautiful, kind, sweet. Wanda made him forget.

But she wasn't you. 

Every moment with you made him completely lose himself. With you, he felt out of body, out of mind. 

And you would make his brother feel that way for the rest of your forever.

On the rooftop, out of the corner of your eye, you could see a tall, dark figure. 

He'd been crisply cut in his expensive suit at dinner, but from where you could see him now, his dark jacket hung on the railing next to him, leaving him in a linen shirt with rolled up sleeves and a silk tie that looked to be coming undone, almost as if someone had tugged on it. A few glossy strands of hair had escaped from his ponytail, and fir a second, you were overcome by the urge to release it from the elastic and run your fingers through his dark tresses. 

He started as you approached him, the heels of your shoes giving you away. You smiled, holding out the martini you'd brought for him. 

"What do you know about the origin of love, Loki?" Your voice was soft, your gaze trained on the sky above you.

"You followed me." His voice cracked, his question hanging unspoken in the air. Why? 

"It's been said that early humanity was like two men or two women squished together." You ignored his statement. "But that we grew too strong, so Zeus split all of mankind into two halves. Modern humans spend their lives looking for their once other halves, and the pain of being split has become familiar, and we've called it love. When we find them, we make love because we're trying to put ourselves back together."

He sat for a moment, pondering your story. What were you trying to say? Were you trying to tell him Thor was your other half? Or... Was he?

He thought about that moment of hesitation. Short, but still, you hesitated. 

Were you looking for a way out?

"Why did you leave, Loki?" Your voice was soft. 

"I felt queasy. Needed some air." He replied, not able to bring himself to look at you. "Why did you follow me?" 

"You looked queasy, like you needed some air." He could almost hear the smile in your voice, and could not help but crack a similar grin himself. 

"I'm glad you're ok, Loki." You squeezed his hand gently, before turning to walk away.

His heart leapt. You were slipping through his fingers like sand. Could he let you go like that? 

"Wait." A desperate plea left his lips, his arm reaching out to grab your wrist almost instinctively. You turned to look at him, confusion in your eyes.

His mind blanked. What was he doing? What should he say? Was he out of his fucking mind?

"Don'tmarryhim." The words came out of his mouth before he was aware of what he was saying, sort of rushing out of his mouth and bashing into each other. 

"What?" You asked. Loki wasn't entirely sure whether you were clear on what he said or why he said it.

Loki wasn't entirely sure wether he himself was clear on what he said or why he said it. 

"Don't marry him." He took a deep breath, regretting the words as they left his mouth. 

A deeply uncomfortable silence settled over you both. 

"Loki, what are you trying to say?" Eventually you broke the silence. He shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. What was he trying to say? He wasn't sure. 

"I'm, I'm, I just.." He gnawed at his bottom lip uncomfortably. "I'm not saying marry- I'm saying marry- not me, him, not..." 

He paused for a moment.

"Nothing. I'm saying nothing." He rubbed at his forehead, screwing up his face. 

You looked at him for a moment, something in the darks of your eyes that he couldn't quite recognise. A soft hand came up to his face, your knuckles gently stroking his cheekbone as you stepped closer to him. 

A little over six months later, he would see this look in your eyes again. Two things would instantaneously occur as he did; the first would be the dawning realisation of exactly what the unspoken words of your expression were. 

The second? 

The crushing feeling that would accompany the realisation that he had recognised this expression too late. 

"Loki," You whispered, looking up into his eyes. "I'm going to go back inside, and we never speak of this again." 

It wouldn't be the first time, (Or the last, but more on that later) but without a word, he let you go.


	5. Chapter Four - La Vie En Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the incident on the roof, as it followed a month later.

A little less than a month after Thor’s impromptu proposal and your subsequent engagement, Loki was invited by his older brother round to their flat one Thursday evening.

_We’ll grab takeout and have some drinks_ , his brother suggested. _It will be just like old times._

He’d avoided his brother, avoided you as much as he possibly could since the incident on the roof. Hell, he’d avoided his own mother, his friends, anything to get away from the truth he so wanted to ignore.

He mentally cursed you both for living in an apartment on the seventh floor as he collapsed, wheezing in a heap on the staircase midway between the fourth and fifth floors. He’d arrived to discover the lift out of order, leaving him and his small bag of shopping to climb the stairs. He was truly dreading seeing you both again, but his manners still remained, so he felt it only polite to bring some form of consumable with him, a token gesture.

He’d lingered longer in the shop than he’d intended, debating over what to purchase. He’d eventually settled on a reasonable looking bottle of pinotage. He knew his brother wouldn’t drink it, but he felt for certain that you would. The idea of buying flowers had crossed his mind, but he dismissed it quickly, although he knew exactly which you’d like best - delicate pink lilies, interspersed with slightly off-white carnations.

His heart hammered in his chest as he knocked at the door. No response. A further two knocks, still, nothing.

It was a long shot, but he grabbed at the door handle, pushing as he did. The door gave way, swinging open to reveal the hallway. He stepped inside, noting a variety of unusual banging and clashing noises.

Oh dear god, he thought to himself, please don’t be having sex.

He entered the kitchen apprehensively, only to find you on your knees, but not quite in the way he’d expected.

You were kneeling on the countertop, searching frantically in a cupboard for something. Varied mugs and glasses surrounded you.

“Dammit,” You muttered. “Why is there never any fucking wine glasses in this house?”

“Do you need any help?” He asked. You jumped, before turning to smile at him.

For that smile, he thought his heart might die.

“Loki,” You said. “Sorry, I’d forgotten you were coming. Fancy a wine? I’m just looking for a glass.”

“So I heard.” He waved his bottle. “Where’s my brother?”

“Oh, he’s, um. He’s..” You swung your legs off the kitchen top, two glasses clutched in your hand. “He’s just, gone out. For a bit.”

As you turned to face him, he noticed your red eyes, the little black trails down your cheeks. _You’d been crying._

“Are you ok?” He asked, tenderly placing a hand on your arm.

“We just had a little fight, that’s all.” You turned away before his gaze could meet your eyes. “Thanks for the wine, by the way. Pinotage, my favourite.”

He smiled to himself.

You handed him a glass, before heading over to the sofa. You sat down, taking a long gulp of your wine before setting your glass on the coffee table next to his.

He struggled to get comfortable on the slightly too plush sofa, shifting an over-plumped cushion so he could lean back.

You glanced shyly across at him, slightly uncomfortable on your own sofa.

Perhaps, the little voice in the back of your mind wondered, it was what lingered unsaid, unspeakable, between you that made you uncomfortable.

“I know what will cheer you up.” He smiled softly at you, his thumb stroking across your knuckles soothingly. You were gently tugged to your feet, across the small dark room to where a battered old gramophone sat atop a side table. He reached into the leather case beside it, retrieving a large plastic disc and gently setting it under the needle. Perplexed, you turned to him, your question clear in your eyes. He said nothing in response, simply smiling at you as the room filled with the rich tones of a piano.

His hand took yours gently, lifting your arm and placing it firmly on his shoulder, his other taking your waist delicately. You laughed quietly, allowing your body to sink into his. Up until then, you’d never realised quite how highly strung you’d become, the constant inner turmoil simply becoming the norm for you. How good it felt to relax, for just once.

_Even if it was with your fiancee’s younger brother._

The two of you began to sway gently, the stresses and worries of the last few weeks practically melting away as you did. Your hand crept further across his shoulder blade, looping around his neck, finally coming to rest atop the starch-stiffened collar of his shirt, gently twisting a strand of dark hair around your fingers. His breath fell heavier, slightly stuttered, on the side of your face, fanning just slightly enough down your throat to give you goosebumps, his strong arms circled around your waist, holding you safe, flush against him.

He felt like home. He felt right. But how could something so wrong feel so right?

This single moment, this chaste embrace, felt more intimate than anything you’d ever experienced before. You felt for certain that even the stars had turned away, for fear of ruining it with their gaze.

But Thor loved you. Thor loved _Loki_. How could you do this to him? How could you betray him, hurt him this way?

Wrong it may’ve been, you clung to Loki still. He twirled you gently as the record came to an abrupt stop with a soft click, and you smiled at him. An easy, genuine, happy smile. It warmed your heart to see it mirrored on his own strikingly handsome face. He pulled you into his arms, one last treacherous embrace.

“Y/N?” He muttered into your hair.

You murmured in response.

_“I love you.”_


	6. Chapter 5 - That Old Black Magic

_“Y/N?” He muttered into your hair._

_You murmured in response._

_“I love you.”_

“What?” A spluttered, incredulous laugh left your lips. “Sorry, Loki, for a moment, I thought you said you loved me.”

This was it, Loki thought. This was his do or die moment.

“I did.” He mumbled. “I do.”

Your whole body froze. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. His words echoed in your ears.

_I love you. I love you. I love you. I. Love. You._

It wasn’t possible. Loki didn’t love you. Loki couldn’t love you.

You’d played this game since the very first time you’d met. Dancing around each other, skirting around your feelings. Secret, exciting, harmless. You were drawn to him and he you, there was no denying that. Since you’d first met, you’d been drawn together, as if dictated by the will of some cosmic force.

But it was never anything serious. Never anything real. You’d had your moments, quiet and tender and clandestine, hidden away from prying eyes. Moments where you’d wondered how things would pan out if circumstances were different. _If -_ and it was a big if - you weren’t engaged to his brother.

As you closed your eyes, hundreds of Lokis’ filled your mind.

Loki at the garden party. Loki half-smiling at a joke you’d told. Loki laughing so hard he spat beer out his nose. Loki sleeping on his brother. Loki in the sea under the moonlight. Loki gently embracing Wanda. Loki gently embracing you. Loki that night on the roof, mere steps away from pouring his heart out to you. You looked at the Loki before you. His bottom lip trembled slightly, his eyes glassy.

“Wanda…" Your voice trembled as you spoke. "Thor.”

He stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around you, cradling your body.

“It doesn’t matter about them.” He murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It doesn’t matter about anyone. All that matters is me and you. So long as I love you and you love me, everything will be ok.”

You said nothing, trying very hard to disguise how every muscle in your body was tensing under his touch. You weren’t fooling anyone.

“You do love me, don’t you?” He stepped away, trying to meet your gaze. “You love me too, right? Y/N?”

You turned your head as shame filled your body. Tears filled your eyes, and you worried that if you looked at him you might start bawling uncontrollably.

“Y/N.” His voice was low. “Do you love me?”

Your silence said it all.

“I’m sorry, Loki.” A tear escaped your eyes, rolling down your cheek.

“You do, Y/N.” His voice was almost pleading, his hands catching your biceps. “You do love me, I know you do. Everything that’s happened, everything between us, I know you do. Say you love me.”

You had been right. The sight of him had, in fact, caused you to sob uncontrollably, your body trembling under his firm grasp.

“Say it, please.” He begged you, tears rolling down his face. “Please, tell me you love me. Tell me the truth. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Loki.” You repeated.

“You do, you do.” It seemed like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “I know you do.”

“Loki, stop.” You pushed him away from you. “I’m sorry, Loki, but _I don’t love you._ ”

Loki felt like he’d been stabbed, your words like a knife driving straight through his heart. His breaths escaped him, as if he’d taken a heavy fall, his lungs suddenly feeling as if they’d been shattered. He’d never felt this way before, he felt almost as if his heart was about to quite literally break into two pieces, taking out most of his vital organs in the process. How had he been so wrong? Could he have really misjudged everything that had happened so badly? He thought back to the first time he’d met you, the way you’d looked at him then.

He thought about the way you were looking at him now.

“You don’t…. Love me?” He whispered, his eyes brimming with tears.

You wiped the teardrops from your eyes uncomfortably. You weren’t sure what to say.

“I should.. I should probably go.” He rubbed at his eyes, turning and all but running for the door. “Just, don’t tell my brother, okay?”

Your heart lurched in your chest. Could you let him go that easily?

“Loki!” You called after him. “Loki, wait!”

You were met with nothing but the slamming of the door.

Loki slammed the door of his flat with force it had never known before. Was he angry? Was he sad? He wasn’t entirely sure.

He’d headed for the Kraken when he entered his kitchen, his fingers unscrewing the bottle as if it was of their own accord, pouring himself a more than healthy portion of rum. He sat himself down on the balcony, his fingers trembling as he attempted to light his cigarette. It took five tries but eventually, the zippo gave in and his Marlboro Lite was smoking .

After three drags of his cigarette and two sips of his rum did he eventually allow himself to cry. Tears rolled down his face, his nose filling with snot. Every contraction of his throat and chest felt like it might be his last. It felt as if every single sob might shatter his rib cage. How could he have been so wrong?

Thor had found you curled in a ball, crying, and more than slightly tipsy.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Was all he’d said, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You’d been scooped up gently, and placed in your bed, the duvet tucked around you.

“Loki didn’t come round, did he?” He asked, climbing into the bed next to you. “I forgot I’d invited him.”

You shook your head violently.

“Look, I’m really sorry.” He reached over to you, wrapping you into his chest. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.” Your voice came out in a whisper, unable to look him in the eyes.

_How could something so right feel so wrong?_

Meanwhile, Loki had been living the endlessly grey shades of life. It wasn’t as if anything had changed. Anything but, really. His life had remained exactly the same.

He woke up every day at 6:05 and went for his daily jog. Monday through Friday, his breakfast would be a largely uninspiring bowl of porridge, following a shower that had, for a week, been cold due to his boiler’s diverter valve sticking. He’d arrive at his office between 8:35 and 8:50 AM (Traffic-dependent), which gave him precisely enough time to make himself a large coffee - black, with one sugar - and read through his case notes before his first client meeting of the day. His working day would often overrun by an hour or so, which he didn’t mind on days he was on his own (The exceptions to this being Thursdays and Fridays, Fridays being date night). Honestly? He happily stayed at the office until 7PM, giving him just enough time after he’d cooked and eaten to wallow in misery and self-pity, followed by an hour of half-hearted chatter with Wanda on the phone before he decided bed was the wisest option.

On Thursdays, he stayed at Wanda’s. This typically meant he had to leave the office before 5:30, else she’d worry. They’d have a perfectly pleasant meal and a few glasses of wine before settling on the sofa to stream Netflix shows, before retreating to her room to fuck before going to sleep. The sex, as the chatter, had also become half-hearted, and this, he could tell, was something Wanda was becoming increasingly suspicious of.

It was a Thursday such as this that Loki had bailed on. He wasn’t feeling well, he’d told his girlfriend. It wasn’t entirely untrue.

You had hurt him unbearably, and that, was not a well feeling.

Not to mention that the pretence was killing him. Pretending you were in love with one woman when you were truly in love with another was no easy feat (Not to mention you’d soon be his sister in law, which would make his feelings a little too _Game of Thrones_ for his liking), nor was pretending to be insanely busy so as to avoid both aforementioned women and the latter’s fiancee.

Not to mention how you’d crushed his heart under your proverbial heel, leaving the proverbial shatters in the proverbial dust.

He’d wondered briefly on his drive home if he’d ever catch a break.

So, he lay sprawled on his sofa, a large wine in his hand, trying to ignore the phone lying next to him that was constantly notifying him of his girlfriend’s concern for his welfare, and trying not to dwell on the fact that he could not dispel the image of your face from his mind every time he fucked said girlfriend.

So, naturally, the knocking on the door had _really_ pissed him off.

He stormed over to the door, internally condemning whoever it was who’d decided to come visit him. What was so important they couldn’t have just texted? If it was a door-to-door salesman or an evangelical believer, he would have to utilise extreme restraint in order to not knock them out. He flung the door open, ready to snap at whoever it was.

He was not expecting it to be you.

“Hey, can we talk?” You turned to face him. The smile on your face was small, shy, reassuring, but it still dazzled him.

He wasn’t sure what to say. In all truth, he was completely dumbfounded.

“No.” Was all his mouth could conjure up.

He’d been dreaming of this for weeks, of you rushing into his arms and declaring your undying love for him, but now that you were here, all he felt was anger. Anger for how you’d humiliated him, anger for how you’d hurt him. As if his body knew better what was good for him than his brain did, his arms reached out by themselves and slammed the door.

If Loki thought you’d leave him alone at that, he was very much mistaken. You clenched your hands into little fists, banging on the door with each alternately. You’d come to talk, and you were not someone who would leave things lying down. You were a fighter, and you’d be damned if one man thought he was going to change that.

His confession had deeply unsettled you. Panicked you, even.

You knew he felt for you. After all, he’d made no real attempt to hide it. Regardless of your own feelings, pushing him away, you knew, was the best thing to do for everyone. You loved Thor, and Loki would get over it. In time, he would come to see that you’d made the right choice.

You did not like the little voice in the back of your mind that constantly reminded you that it was him clouding your thoughts as you drifted off to sleep in his brother’s arms.

“Loki!” You yelled. “I know you can hear me.”

Your banging on the door continued for another minute until you heard shuffling from the other side.

“Will you shut up?” He grumbled. “I have neighbours, you know.”

“Then let me in.” You argued.

The sigh that came from the other side of the door came from a man who sounded like he was really, really done. The door swung open, revealing a man who looked as exhausted as he sounded.

“You have five minutes.” He told you, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Loki was not sure why exactly he had let you into his flat, but there you were, sat on his sofa opposite him.

“I’m sorry, Loki.” You said, looking up at him.

“So you’ve said before.” He but his lip, staring down at his shoes.

“I humiliated you.” You said.

“Yeah, you did.” A bitter laugh left his mouth.

“I hurt you.” You continued.

“That too.” He brought his hand up to his throat, undoing his top bottom.

“Can you just stop, and listen, just for a second?” You asked. “Yes, I hurt you, yes, I humiliated you, and a whole lot more, too, I would imagine. But I want to move on from this! I want us to be the way we were! Is that too much to ask?”

“Y/N, you didn’t just hurt me.” His voice was low, quiet. Calm, even. “I held my heart out to you, and you trod it into the dirt. I told you I love you, and you didn’t love me back. That, I can live with. But now, you say you want back in on my life? To what, to laugh at me? Why _the fuc_ k are you even here, Y/N?”

You bit your lip, trying very hard not to cry. It wasn’t working.

“Say something.” Loki rose to his feet, standing roughly half a foot from you. “Fucking say something! Why the fuck are you here, Y/N? To throw it in my fucking face?”

“Because I do.” You whispered, covering your face with your hands.

“What?” He asked, stopping in his tracks.

“I fucking love you, Loki!” You shouted, suddenly finding your voice, and in the more literal sense, your feet. “I fucking love you and I’m engaged to your fucking brother, and that’s so many kinds of fucked up I don’t even know where to begin.”

To say Loki was stunned did not even scratch the surface.

He stared at you, his mouth opening as if he were about to speak, but no words came out. For so long, he’d ached to hear those words, but now you’d actually said them, he wished you hadn’t. He almost wished there was some way he could push them back into your mouth, make them unsaid.

“You do?” Was all his brain could think to say.

You nodded, suddenly bashful, unable to look into his eyes. You stood, awkwardly facing each other. Your heavy breathing was the only noise in the room, sneaking glances at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking, to see if they were looking at you. Who would be the one to break the silence? He reached for you, tugging you into his arms. Your head fell against his shoulder, your body contained in his arms as they wrapped around you. In spite of yourself, you let out a heavy sigh.

_‘Push him away, it’s for the best of everyone’_ , the voice in the back of your mind chided. _Bang goes that theory._

You opted to ignore it.

“Hey now, stop with those tears.” His tone had become soft, a world apart from the anger from just moments ago. “You’re much too beautiful to cry.” His hand came down to cradle your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes with his thumb.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whispered.

“I know.” He replied.

“It’s wrong.” You continued.

“I know.” He repeated.

You nuzzled your head into his chest, relaxing under his touch as your arms wound around his neck.

“Loki.” You whispered, your voice hoarse. “Loki, I want you to kiss me. Please.”

He blinked at you in disbelief. He’d waited a year and a half to kiss you, and now you were actually asking, his body seemed to be betraying him.

You looked up at him, one eyebrow slightly quirked.

All he could think was how pretty your eyes were.

“Well?” You asked.


End file.
